call me friend but keep me closer
by notalone91
Summary: Arya didn't want to go on this damn blind date in the first place. Then why is she sitting on the bench outside the restaurant crying?


Everyone said that Arya was insane for moving in with a bunch of guys after her college graduation. Gendry Waters, Lommy Greenhands, and Hot Pie, or Holden Piper if you didn't know any better, had put out an ad looking for two roommates for a three-story brownstone near Harrenhal University. Mycah and Arya had been friends since they were kids and were desperate to get out of the dorms. When they reached the coffee shop on the corner to talk details with their prospective roommates, the pair couldn't help but feel a little giddy at the excitement. Mycah kept assuring that, even though they were all going to be guys, he wouldn't let them push Arya around too much. She rolled her eyes dramatically. They both knew that she'd be the one doing protecting if it came down to it.

They waited, watching the crowd move through when a trio of men came in. One on the shorter side, heavyset, with black curls that drooped into his eyes, about the same age as Arya and Mycah. The second was, possibly younger, blond and slight. His clothes seemed to fall off of him. Arya thought he looked shifty but wasn't going to let that get in her way. The last looked to be in his late twenties and like he'd stepped off the cover of Men's Health. His hair was buzzed short, accenting the strong definition of his angular jaw and the smile lines that formed at the corner of his eyes. The simple grey sweater he wore was too tight around the chest and shoulders for anyone who wasn't begging for attention. As he walked, Arya couldn't help herself but watch the way his dark jeans clung to him. If these were the three they were meeting, Arya was well and truly fucked. Or so she could hope.

The men headed right for them. "Arya and Mycah?" the older one asked.

Arya nodded, wishing she'd done something- anything- to make herself look more presentable. She'd reasoned that these were people who were going to see her first thing in the morning and last thing at night so they deserved to know what they were getting. Her hair, still too short for her liking after a disastrous home cut that she'd had fixed and dyed a light purple to make her feel better, was pulled half back and still wet. She'd thrown on her ratty Winterfell Wolves graduating class t-shirt and a pair of black leggings and sped out the door with only the remnants of last night's eyeliner.

"Cool," the shorter guy said. They introduced themselves and talked a little about the house and the neighborhood. It was all settled just about as soon as they reached the house.

They quickly fell into a rhythm. Arya was used to the abundance of testosterone after growing up with five brothers.

Still, she missed her sister. She'd Skype Sansa as often as she could. One Saturday conversation led to a keen observation from her sister. She wondered if she hadn't sought out her situation to more closely replicate the chaos of home. Arya laughed, asking if she'd married the psychoanalyst yet. "Heavy emphasis on the psycho," she needled. All the same, she couldn't help but feel the all-too-familiar sting of jealousy, as usual, as her sister talked at length about her perfect life and her perfect job and her perfect man. Arya had none of it. Sure, she was happy enough. She didn't need any of it. It didn't take away the long-standing comparison. Her job at the gym was nice, but she desperately wanted to start getting the stunt work she'd trained so long and hard for. Her social life was... okay. But watching the scores of people who came calling for Tyene and Ja'qen left her more frustrated than she cared to admit. Not to mention the stream of women who were in and out of her house at all hours of the night.

Most nights, she'd find herself perched on the kitchen counter, trying to dissect an action sequence on her laptop until Mycah's visitors left so that the wall that their bedrooms shared would stop pounding and the noises would stop drifting through. Frequently, Gendry would make his way up from the basement and keep her company. They'd talk about movies and tv, food, places they'd like to visit.

After a year of living with her Merry Men, as she'd lovingly nicknamed them after a late-night viewing of Men In Tights, too many beers, and four pairs of leggings that would never fit properly again, she'd grown quite used to them. Still, it was Gendry she found herself pulled to. They had remarkably similar tastes in everything. They'd work out together. He was the prop master for the local theatre and made all of their Shakespearean weapons by hand. He'd even managed to parlay her into a position choreographing their fight scenes. That wasn't to say that they were a mirror of one another. She was a free spirit with, as he'd so eloquently put it, 'too fucking many irons in the fire.' He was very settled and, as Mycah would constantly joke, 'older than time,' despite that very much not being the case. When he'd gotten testy about it, Arya corrected that he meant an old soul and some people found that quite attractive. Probably. She quickly grew to consider him her best friend and was truly grateful to have him around. They'd laugh off the insinuations of the other three, but sometimes, he'd catch her staring with a curious, far off gaze in his direction, or she'd see a change in his demeanor when she'd walk in and they'd wonder. There was no denying that the flutters she'd experienced the day they met were still there, but his friendship was so much more valuable.

At least until he came upstairs in the middle of the night in nothing but thin grey sweats and Arya thought, for the first time in her life, that she might faint. The mental image she'd keep of that could definitely be used as an argument. She hadn't been able to keep the slack-jawed smile off her face as she sat on the couch, watching him dig in the refrigerator. When the door shut and he realized she'd been sitting there the whole time, he offered a sleepy "Like what you see?" that colored her the most curious shade of pink he'd ever seen. He raised his eyebrows imperceptibly and returned to his room, leaving an incredibly flustered Arya to her thoughts.

One day, she'd been surprised by an old family friend appearing at her work. "You need to get out more," Yoren, an old friend of her father's, back in town recruiting for his new cybersecurity team, said over lunch. "Your dad would kill me dead if he knew I was letting his baby girl wither away like some sad Bronte character."

Arya rolled her eyes, so not wanting to hear it. "I'm not withering."

The older man gave a hoarse laugh. "Then do me a favor," he prompted.

Giving him a scathing look, she growled: "What's that?"

"An old friend of your dad's and mine has a son in the city, in a similar position to you, alone, dad's dead..." he started, ignoring her mounting impatience. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd meet him for dinner."

She laid her head on her folded arms dramatically. "A blind date, Uncle Yoren? You've got to be kidding me."

Patting her head fondly, he laughed. "Unfortunately not, kid." He gave her the details for the meet-up, a cafe near to her house, and asked her what type of signal she should be on the lookout for.

"The neon sign that says 'desperate' over my head should be enough," she groaned. "I don't know, something ridiculously blatant. Like one of those little swords that they spear the garnish for a cocktail with." She laughed, imagining a guy just whipping out a tiny neon green sword from his pocket.

"You want me to tell him to bring a weapon? That's you, isn't it," he laughed. "Then you need to bring your little stake, slayer. And I want you to text me a picture of them both on the table so I know you didn't chicken out."

Her lips twisted in frustration when she realized there was no getting out of this. At least she could be sure that the guy would at least be halfway decent if he would be game for that kind of indication. Still, she couldn't shake the fact that it didn't feel right.

Arya didn't tell any of her roommates about it. The last guy she'd seen on had been chased from the house by her boys for making an off-color comment about her while she was upstairs. They wouldn't tell her what it was, but the fact that he stopped answering her calls and texts immediately didn't bode well. From the way

Gendry's jaw had throbbed when she asked over a shared 6 Pack of Guinness what she did wrong, and his insistence that this was not about her, she knew it couldn't have been good.

That Thursday, which she'd whinged about- who goes on a date on Thursdays, she'd dressed casually, even though she couldn't help but note that the corduroys in the same pastel lilac as her hair and matching eyeliner made her feel put together in a way that made it okay that she certainly wasn't going to over-exert herself for someone she didn't know or want to know. She grabbed the replica prop from her dresser and bounded down the stairs, secretly hoping for the first time since she was thirteen, that vampires were real because she could use a good fight right now.

The walk to the cafe was quick. Even so, she was supposed to meet this guy at 7:30 and she was ten minutes late. She sat on a bench just outside the door. The clock on her phone began to mock her as it got to be almost 8:30. If the guy didn't show up by 8:45, she was leaving. Even if he showed up, she wasn't going to be happy about it. Hot, angry tears began to fall. She should have known. She didn't even want to be on this fucking date. She didn't want to be there and yet she was hurt that this person didn't show up. There was no way that this guy was going to be as good as the one she wanted him to be.

"Arya?"

The guy whose voice she could have sworn was coming from beside her.

She turned to face the speaker and felt her heart rate quicken when she realized that it was, indeed, Gendry. "Hey," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked, standing before her caring and gentle, perfection personified making the sting of rejection even worse because it cemented the ache she felt when she thought of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she sniffed.

Growing more and more concerned, he sat beside his roommate and wrapped an arm around her comfortingly. "Arya..." he repeated softly.

She shrugged off his arm and slid away, embarrassed by the whole situation. "I got stood up," she groaned.

"Nooo," he said, bewildered. That wasn't possible. "By who?" he asked, ready to throw hands if he ever wound up face to face with the dick.

She blushed, burying her face in her hands. "Would you believe me if I said I don't know?" she whined.

"No," Gendry confirmed.

Raising her head to look at him, she admitted defeat, wondering if that neon sign had indeed made its way over her head. "I had a blind date."

Lifting his eyebrows, he coughed an amused laugh. "You're kidding."

"Nope," she said, closing the word off with a distinct pop of her lips. "Asshole doesn't even know me and bailed." She shook her head and buried her face once more, propping her elbows on her knees, groaning into her palms.

The man roughed the hair on the gack of her head gently before letting his palm trail gentle, comforting circles on her back. "That's his loss."

"Yeah. Sure," she moaned, not convinced in the least.

Gendry watched her for a moment, before sliding off the bench to squat in front of her. "I'm serious. You're a badass. I'm lucky I've gotten to know that," he said softly, bouncing a little as his legs trembled with the motion. "Even if you prove constantly that I should regret ever agreeing to kickboxing classes with you," he added as an explanation to why he was standing now.

She laughed, looking up at him. "You knew what you were getting into," she insisted for the hundredth time since they started that rotation. When he made an indignant noise and folded his arms defiantly, she nudged at him with her foot, adding "Dick."

He avoided her ably. "That doesn't mean I was prepared for that Crouching Tiger Matrix shit," he replied, lifting the lower edge of his sweater to reveal a fresh bruise about the size of Arya's fist from their workout the day prior.

"Oh, come on," she laughed, flipping her hair jokingly. "Now you're just trying to butter me up." She was feeling better already, against all previous indications.

Gendry reached a hand for her, pulling her off the bench and draping his arm around her shoulder amicably. "Come on, let's get you home." When Arya pulled him into a hug, he didn't pull away. He'd never admit it, but he may or may not have rested his cheek against the top of hers and pulled her in tighter. Maybe. "You know what's funny? I have a blind date tomorrow," he confessed, desperately looking for a reason to get out of it.

The familiar sinking feeling she got every time he went on a date returned to the pit of Arya's stomach and she pulled back. "Hm. I hope you have better luck than I do." She was being honest. She only wanted him to be happy. Pulling her replica of Buffy's stake from her pocket, she ran her hand across it, suddenly needing something to fiddle with.

An idea struck him. "What do you..." before he could suggest that they set aside tomorrow night and get a case of beer and order some pizza, since it was clear she needed and deserved his attention more than any of the airheads his dad's college buddy could come up with did, his gaze settled on the familiar item in her palm. "Arya, why did you bring Mr. Pointy with you?"

"You know how you're supposed to bring something so that your date knows it's you?" she said, laughing a little at the realization that she'd just pulled an item meant to hypothetically kill vampires out and didn't explain it and Gendry was not concerned with her having it, but why she had it on her at the moment. The fact that he referred to it by name was yet another reason she was sure that the guy she was supposed to meet would never have measured up. "The person who set me up laughed at what I suggested this guy bring, so he said if I was gonna make him bring a goofy little weapon to meet me, I had to bring a weapon to meet him."

Gendry's heart skipped a beat. A goofy little weapon. He dug his hand into his back pocket hurriedly. "A weapon like a cocktail sword?"

Again, Gendry coming in clutch with the understanding her. "Exactly like a-" She looked up at him for a minute, breath caught in her chest. "Hang on. How did you-"

Eyes wide, he asked panicked. "Arya, what's today?"

"Thursday," she answered. "Why?"

No, he thought. No, it's Wednesday. Right? No. No, their kickboxing classes were on Wednesday. He had load-in tomorrow. "Shit. Are you sure?" he asked, realizing the implications and suddenly very glad he'd decided to walk home in the direction he did to make sure he knew where this place was.

"Yes," she nodded, wondering if he'd completely lost it.

"Shit!" he cursed, panic and something else entirely rising in his chest. "Arya, I was your date," he stammered as the young woman simply blinked at him, seeming to miss his words. "I was in every bar for 10 blocks in any direction looking for a fucking cocktail sword. I thought it was hysterical when Yoren said that's what I was supposed to bring so I had to go find one. I had a million jokes... "

Yoren's name snapped Arya partially out of her trance. Gendry was her date? Gendry, who she was hopelessly in love with? Gendry, her roommate? Gendry, her best friend? Gendry, standing in front of her rambling nervously like he was relieved that it was her and not someone tall and busty with flowing red hair and magic powers of seduction?

When she had finally tuned back into what he was saying, he was concluding his babbling. "That's where I was. I thought it was Wednesday, so I was off on this ridiculous scavenger hunt and wound up buying a whole bag of them at the damn grocery store," he said, pulling the bag of brightly colored plastic swords from his pocket and waving them frantically, "because everywhere around here is using pretentious sugar cane spears or bacon or bamboo picks or the metal ones because we, apparently, live in the crux of Hipsterville." The woman's brows knitted together and she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say. "I'm so sorry, Arya. Are you sure it's Thursday?"

"How do you know Yoren?" she asked, still stuck on how they'd been so closely linked as that and didn't know it.

Gendry laughed. Of course, she didn't care about the swords or even his absence. Bigger picture, he reminded himself. "He and the sperm donor have been friends for a long time. He's actually the one who reconnected me with him. The last company Yoren recruits for, Black Wall," he said, getting a nod from her, "did most of the hiring for the tech guys for the old man's last campaign."

"Campaign?" Arya asked. She knew Gendry's estranged father had been in politics but she hadn't known to what capacity. "The last thing my dad did before he died was Lieutenant Governor for an old friend..." Gendry's eyes widened and Arya's mouth hung open. "Your dad's Robert Baratheon?"

"King" Robert Baratheon was a multiterm governor and Arya's dad's oldest friend. If her dad had been more ambitious, they probably would have been rivals, but Ned didn't have any desire for glory. He just wanted what was just and fair and he had truly believed, especially after serving alongside each other, that Robert was going to be the type of leader that fought for what was right. When the economy started going to shit and extremist groups started popping up all over the state, threatening to unseat Robert, he'd called for his old friend Ned to help. Arya wasn't sure what happened in the end, but there had been some sort of scandal about, she supposed, Gendry's step-siblings and Robert's wife Cersei was trying to get Ned fired. After a rally, the governor had been struck by a hit and run driver and died, leaving her father acting governor for two weeks until he was brutally slain on the steps of the capitol.

"Your dad's Ned Stark?" Gendry balked.

"You don't get an excuse here! I have my dad's last name! Your step-brother was engaged to my sister! You should have picked up on that!" she yelped.

She was right. Of course, she was. That didn't change the fact that he didn't pick up on it. He didn't exactly listen when Robert talked unless it was directly pertinent at the time. He knew he had kids, but the only thing he could remember was that he had an illegitimate son that he seemed to love that would have been right around the same age as him. It made him angry that Ned could be a father to his son, but his best friend couldn't do the same. "It didn't even dawn on me, Arya, I swear!"

"How did it not dawn on you? It's not exactly a common name!" She was floored. She didn't know how to react. Robert Baratheon was not an easy man, as she recalled. And after the way his son had treated Sansa... She could have killed Joffrey herself if he hadn't managed to choke to death at his own wedding to the girl he'd left her sister for. She knew it had nothing to do with Gendry, but still, that was a lot to find out.

"It's not exactly like I had that good of a relationship with the man," he reiterated. "I think I met your dad once. Maybe."

"Okay fine," she said, beginning to cool off. They'd talk about all of that later, she guessed. "So, now what?" Arya asked, realizing that she was now, apparently, on a date with Gendry.

Unwilling to miss his chance, he smiled, gesturing back at the cafe. "Are you hungry?"

"Of course, I am, idiot," she laughed, moving closer to him, pressing into his side. "I've been waiting in the cold for an hour. I'm starving."

They started walking toward the door, but he stopped, unable to go any further before... "Arya?" he grabbed her by the wrist stopping her, too.

"What's up?" she asked, turning back to him, beaming.

He took a step to her and pushed her hair gently out of her face, observing her curious smile. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Raising to her tiptoes, Arya reached her arms around his neck and let him kiss her harder, smiling as he did. It was better than she could have imagined.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he breathed when they separated, leaving his forehead rested against hers just a moment longer.

Panting a little, gaze flitting quickly over his face, wanting to remember everything about their first kiss, including the delicious way he looked so relieved that she didn't push him away, she replied "God, so have I."

He swallowed, bringing his arms around her back. "Do you actually want to try this?"

"More than anything else," she admitted, a little more melodramatically than she'd have hoped. "You don't think it'll make things awkward?"

"I don't think so," he said confidently. In truth, he expected it would make their relationship even more comfortable. No more secretive gazes. No more poorly masked jealousy over dates. Being able to give in to the desire to kiss and touch whenever they wanted. Yeah, this would be better.

Arya felt similarly, but she was more worried about their living situation. "What about the other three?" she asked.

Gendry shrugged. "They'll deal."

"But, what do we tell them?" she asked, hoping they wouldn't be mad or weird about it. She knew that, often, people were weird about living with couples. She'd understand, obviously, but she'd be upset if they were angry with her.

Thinking it over for a moment, he eventually settled on, "Nothing yet, I think."

She backed away a little, trying to gauge his expression. "Would you be ashamed to let people know?" she asked.

"No," he answered immediately. "I'm not saying hide it. I'm saying not address it until there's something to say. Let's keep it ours for now." It wasn't anyone else's business, really.

"Ours," Arya said, letting the word hang in the air between them. "Us." She began testing other words, swaying in his arms happily. "Together." She gave him a bright smile, sliding her hands from his back to his chest. "You and me." She crinkled her nose, realizing the connotation of all of those words she'd only allowed herself to think about in the most abstract concepts when tying them to Gendry. There were others. Mine. Lover. Partner. Boyfriend. "I like that." It felt right.

Gendry lifted his brows and nodded, "I do, too." He leaned down to kiss her once more but was interrupted mid-kiss by Arya's stomach growling. They both laughed, remembering that they still hadn't even gone into the restaurant. "Okay, let's get you fed," he chuckled, turning her around and guiding her through the door by the shoulders.

Their conversation was, as expected, effortless. What Arya hadn't expected to be as effortless was the introduction of flirting. When she offered him a bite off of her fork, she accompanied it with chewing on her lip a little when Gendry made a slightly naughty noise to confirm that it was as good as she said. As he told her about the meeting for the next season's budget for the theatre, boring stuff that had left him wildly frustrated, he reached for her hand on the table without hesitation. Little things, obviously, but it made it really feel like a date. It was subtle, but it was different and left Arya with a completely different hunger than she'd started with.

They walked home afterward hand in hand, still chatting happily. When they reached the steps and stood there for a moment, staring at the door, suddenly realizing that... they lived together. So they were going home together after their first date. It didn't mean that anything, but it certainly could. "Well," Arya started, "that was a great blind date, even if you were tragically late," she laughed, giving him a playful little shove into the railing, before moving closer to him.

"Arya, I'm sorry," he said, wrapping her in his arms tightly.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she pressed herself against him, enjoying the newness of the touch. "Oh, stop. It makes it even more hysterical to me," she confessed, staring up at the sky. "This whole thing is absurd. You know that, right? The fact that I was trying to get out of it..." she trailed off, glad she'd decided to give in and humor Yoren after all.

"Why?"

"Because," she started, watching her hand stroke his broad shoulders in his blue bomber jacket, "this hypothetical guy wouldn't have been you." She leaned up and kissed him harder than he'd kissed her earlier. She let her hands wander up into his hair. He let out a low groan and pulled her flush against him, letting trialing his grip from the small of her back until he was cupping the lift of her ass. Arya noticed a hard pressure against her hip and gave a breathless little laugh, breaking the kiss and raising an eyebrow at him. "Is that a sword in your pocket or..."

Expression unchanging, Gendry reached into his pocket and retrieved the long-since-forgotten bag of cocktail garnish swords.

"Oh. Okay," she said, amused at how that had worked out, but a little disappointed that he wasn't happy to see her, as it were. "So, it's a whole bunch of swords then."

Walking up the front steps, Gendry unlocked and opened the door, ushering Arya inside. "If I'd known it was you, I'd have just brought the dagger I've been working on for Macbeth. I'm actually really proud of it," he said.

"Did you manage to get the flower into the handle like you were trying?" she asked, knowing they'd talked about the symbolism in Lady Macbeth's 'look like the flower' quote but Gendry wasn't sure that he'd be able to get the flower to set in a period-appropriate resin without ruining it.

"I decided against it," he confirmed. "I actually found this really cool scorpion in amber at a swap meet and used that instead," he said plopping back into the corner of the couch.

Arya's face lit up, and she curled up beside him, draping her legs into his lap. "That's perfect!" She was fascinated by his attention to detail. Something that was fairly likely for the audience to miss mattered so much to him and the cast loved it. It tended to inform some of their acting choices, even. The first fight scene she'd choreographed had been for Henry VI, part 3 and the pair of actors had gushed about Gendry's swords and the way it made the characters feel more alive. She knew the guy playing Macbeth was going to scream when he saw it.

"Right? I thought so," he said, pulling her closer. He wondered, just for a minute, why it had taken him so long to admit his feelings to her when this felt so right. Furthermore, he thought, if this hadn't happened, would he ever have done it at all?

Nuzzling into his him, Arya started nipping and sucking at his neck. He pulled her into his lap to allow himself a better angle to do the same. Gendry found a spot just behind her ear that elicited a gasp. He hummed approvingly, having dreamt about finding ways to make her do that for ages.

Beginning to switch her hips a little, intending to drive him wild, Arya slid her hands under his sweater and pushed it up. He leaned forward, allowing her to get it off entirely. When she'd finally removed it, she stared at his defined abs for a moment, smiling mischievously. She resumed her previous activity, trailing tantalizing, wet kisses down his chest. He simply watched her work, wondering how he'd missed that she was interested. He slid her open button-down off and let it fall to the floor. She stopped and removed her t-shirt as well, dropping it carelessly into the growing pile, and revealed a lacy black bra.

Slackjawed, Gendry trailed his hands up her sides and pulled her down to meet his mouth. She pulled at his lower lip desperately with her own. Obliging her desire, he parted his lips slowly, teasingly, ignoring the tightness in the front of his jeans.

They continued in such a way for a while, kissing and teasing and touching, each sensation so long-awaited. Arya moved to the side, lowering herself flat to the cushions and pulled him on top of her. She hooked her leg up around his nimbly. Trailing her hand down his stomach, she toyed with the waistband of his pants

"Wait, Arya," he said, pulling back from her breathing heavy. "Are we really doing this?" he asked.

Pulse racing, she thought about it for a moment. He wasn't a stranger. It may have been their first date but this was different. This was Gendry. She nodded, eyes filled with desire. "Yeah, we are."

If this was happening, Gendry was certainly going to do it right and right was not quick and dirty on the couch. "Come on, then," he said, lifting her over his shoulder effortlessly. She squeaked in surprise and reached down to swat his ass playfully. He carried her down the steps to his bedroom and plopped her on the bed. She bounced once, landing on her elbows and watched him, breathless.

He sauntered to her, undoing his belt and dropping it on the floor. He kicked off his shoes. He unbuttoned her pants and tugged them off in one swift motion.

Arya suddenly remembered that she was wearing stupid panties with cartoon old people on them because she hadn't been planning for anyone to see them. "Never pictured you for a granny panty girl," Gendry laughed, hooking a finger into the elastic and letting it snap back lightly.

"Do a lot of thinking about my panties, do you?" she asked, a coy smile taking over for the embarrassed grimace.

Cocking his head to the side and lowering himself over her, he placed a kiss just above the top of the waistband. "What do you think," he growled, trailing up her middle, stopping to dance his fingers across the peaks at the center of her breasts. "Do a lot of thinking about that, too," he said, kissing just above the fabric, this time leaving a shining pink mark after he'd come away.

A short moan escaped her lips. Arya scratched her nails down his back to the waistband of his pants. "Are these coming off soon?" she asked.

"Still got some things to take off of you first," he said, shaking his head. "Are you in a rush?" Panting a little, she managed to hum a no before tugging him down on her, kissing him again. She arched her back a little, yearning for him. He trailed his hand down against her crotch and found her wetness dampening the fabric. "You are eager, though," he teased, slipping one finger inside to stroke lightly around her entrance, "aren't you, Arya?"

The way he said her name, low and languid, sent a wave of heat over her whole body. "Yes," she breathed. She began to grind against his hand lightly, trying to draw attention to her rising need. Gendry pulled his hand back and she whined at the loss of contact. She took the opportunity to slide them off for him. "Better?" She watched as he loomed over top of her, trying to be as patient as she could be, given the circumstances.

He leaned down and kissed her hard. "Almost," he said, hooking his thumbs into the band of her bra and slid his hands around until they were under her, undoing the clasps and flinging it off to the side.

She gave a breathy laugh. "Now what," she asked, shifting her leg back and forth to knock her knee against his hip. "You've got me in the altogether here. What are you going to do?"

Gendry raised his brows, licking his lips daringly. He teased his hands up her thighs and stood up. "First," he said thoughtfully, crossing to his dresser and grabbing a condom from the dresser and tearing the corner off the wrapper, leaving it on the nightstand, "I'm going to kiss you again." He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her thigh. "And again and again," he trailed up to her hip and stopped, "but I'm going to make sure you never know where it'll land." He lay back beside her and pressed a kiss to her ribs before propping himself on his elbow and sucking gently at the base of her neck. "Then, when you're good and ready, I'm gonna stop," Arya whined, even though he showed no signs of making good on that at the moment. "I'm going to make you come to me," he said, voice low and gentle, "then, once you beg for it, I'm gonna make you come for me."

"We are full of ourselves, aren't we?" she asked, voice all breath.

With a gentle laugh, Gendry resituated himself over her once more. "Not as full of me as you're going to be." Taking that as a cue, Arya reached for the closure of his jeans. "Ah, ah, ah," he corrected, taking her hands and pinning them to the bed. "What did I say?"

Arya wriggled, trying to regain control of her arms. "Then kiss me, damn it!"

"As my lady commands," he said, starting to do just as he said. He licked down the line between her breasts, stopping to focus intently on the underside of one. Arya closed her eyes, enjoying his mouth. As promised, his next kiss was unexpected, having moved to suck at her wrist. Every time he pulled away, the anticipation of his next location made her heart skip a beat- the curve of her hip, her collar bone, her ribs, her mouth. From there, he hesitated, letting the heat of his breath give away his location. Teasing her open with his fingers, he brought his mouth gently to her sex, tongue taking languid strokes up and down before working at her clit gently.

She moaned in surprise. She should have known he'd be good at that. Heat pooling low in her belly before long, her moans became higher pitched and more pointed. With both hands now free, she dug them into his hair, hips hitching against his mouth.

Noting her desperation, he backed away and she panted, grateful for the intermission. She watched him for a moment, trying to predict his next move. He'd said he was going to make her come to him. She stood up and followed him.

When Arya moved toward him, he stopped, allowing her to catch him by the waistband. "These have got to go. Now," she said assertively. When he caught her hand and raised his eyebrow, she stood back, impressed by his restraint. She could play along. "Do I strike you as the type to beg?" she asked, returning to the bed and crossing her legs, sticking her chest out a little.

Gendry's heart pounded. He walked toward her, wrapping his hand around her knee and separating her shapely thighs. "From this position?" He gazed down at her, slick and pink and ready, and teased one finger inside of her. Arya dropped back onto her elbows, head lolling back as he stroked. "Yeah, I think so." He continued for a moment, adding his thumb's small circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. "Is this what you want?" He added a second finger to his strokes.

"More," she moaned.

He leaned forward, close to her ear. "Closer," he encouraged. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she answered, snaking her hands to his back.

Gendry smiled wickedly. "Tempting," he cooed, adding a third finger, making sure she was well ready for him when she decided to ask. "Tell me what you want from me."

Tension mounting within her, Arya found herself struggling to find words. "Fuck," she cursed, leaning up to kiss him. "Come on," she moaned against his mouth. "I need all of you."

"So close. You can have it." He took her hands and rested them at the front of his pants, letting her feel how hard she'd made him without even touching him. "All you have to do is ask."

Thumbing his length through the fabric, all of her resolve crumbled away. "Please fuck me, Gendry," she whimpered, pressing herself against him. "Please?" she asked, finally begging. Just as he'd said, all she had to do was ask. He released her hands, his own flinging to her jaw and pulling her into a kiss as she made quick work of freeing him from the constraints of his pants. Arya made a needy whimper, finally seeing him hard before her. She reached for the rubber on the nightstand and finished opening it, rolling it over his erection. Thankful to finally be in more control of the action, she pressed against him, rolling them both over. "Or maybe we change your plans?"

Gripping her ass firmly as she slid herself around him, Gendry was certainly not going to argue at this point. He watched as she moved above him, rocking herself hard over him. He thrust slowly with her, sliding his hands up her back.

It didn't take long for Arya to lose herself in the moment, mounting pressure coming to a point. Her toes curled under. Her legs began to tremble. The movement of her hips became more desperate and erratic as she began to cry out. She leaned forward, supporting her weight against his chest as she fell over the edge, blood rushing to her skin causing a hot red flush over her cheeks and chest.

"God, you're beautiful," he panted, continuing to thrust as she came off her high. The glow she'd worked up stirred him closer to his finish. Arya leaned up and kissed him hard, grinding with his motions to get him there, too.

When she was sure he'd come, Arya rolled off of him, still struggling to catch her breath. "Wow," she panted, heart rate beginning to return to normal accompanied by the slightest ringing in her ears.

"That was..." Gendry started, unable to find the words.

Arya laughed, rolling onto her side and resting her hand on his chest. "As good as you'd hoped?"

Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her close, kissing the top of her sweat-dampened hair. "Better."

"Way better," she confirmed, kissing his shoulder. She started to sit up and look for her clothes, more than prepared to go back to her own bedroom.

That was not in the cards. Catching her by the waist, Gendry pulled her back down. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Bed?" she laughed.

Tugging her further into the mattress, he hummed a no. "I think I'd like to spend the night holding my girlfriend, thank you."

Quirking her eyebrow up and turning to face him, Arya fought off a huge smile. "Should I go get her, then?" She laughed and slid closer to him, arching her leg over his.

"I'm serious, Arya," he said, kissing her gently. "Stay with me."

Narrowing her eyes a little, she sighed a melodramatic "Fiiine..." before smiling broadly. "What about the girlfriend thing?"

Pulling the covers up over them, he shook his head. He should have realized he'd have to ask. Paybacks, he supposed. "I told you earlier that I've wanted you since the day we met. I didn't mean sexually." He laughed, realizing that that was sort of a lie. "I mean, I did, but not just that. Arya, you're my best friend and you're gorgeous and you're funny and you're strong... be my girlfriend." Arya raised an eyebrow questioningly. Sensing her answer, but knowing she was going to hold his teasing her over his head, he added a needy "Please?"

"Finally," she said, leaning in to kiss Gendry passionately. Boyfriend. Mine. And all because of a blind date. She laughed, distracting him out of the embrace.

"What is it?" he asked, soft lines forming at the corner of his eyes as he smiled.

She reached out and swept her hand along his hair gently. "Tonight was wild," she admitted. "Who the hell gets set up on a blind date with their best friend?"

"Us, apparently," he laughed, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm still sorry I left you waiting."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I think it's forgiven."

Talking well into the night, they finally fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms. Arya had dreamt of it so many times, but she could never have predicted how right it would feel. She wasn't normally the type to want to be held, but this was different. Everything just fit. Gendry's strong arms made her feel safe and warm in a way she hadn't ever expected. The man smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

Even when they woke up the next morning, they didn't try to remove themselves. They lay in bed talking for a moment, realizing that they were actually going to get to spend the whole day together. The only thing either of them had to do that day was the load-in at the theatre later. The newly coupled pair came up for breakfast together much later than they'd anticipated. It probably wouldn't have raised any eyebrows if Arya hadn't been in a pair of Gendry's underwear and t-shirt. Truly, the fact that all three of their roommates were on the couch eating cereal like 9-year-olds watching cartoons was the surprise. They weren't usually up before noon.

"Told you it was Arya. Fork it over," Hot Pie said, reaching his hand out to the other two.

Lommy reached into the pocket of his shorts. "Shit," he cursed, pulling a $20 from his wallet.

"You couldn't wait until Christmas?" Mycah groaned, doing the same.

Exchanging a look between themselves, they laughed and moved into the kitchen. Nothing to worry about, then.


End file.
